


This Town

by wicked3659



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-28 09:39:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17785010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wicked3659/pseuds/wicked3659
Summary: A social function, a chance meeting, a bittersweet ending or a new beginning?





	This Town

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so it's been some time over 2 years, maybe longer since I wrote for Transformers. Even longer since I wrote my favourite OTP. 
> 
> I finished my Master's, I passed it took four years of my life and my writing had grown stale and tired. I missed writing, I missed world-building, it helps with the brain weasels. So here we are. A Valentine's Day fic. A one shot or a potential pilot for a multi-chapter, I haven't decided.
> 
> Thank you to eerian_sadow and dragonofdispair and oly_chic for encouraging me. 
> 
> Without the support and inspiration of those in the TF fandom, I doubt I would have ever written again. 
> 
> I do hope you like it, thanks for sticking around and reading my words.
> 
> Beta'd by dragonofdispair

_As if the whole world was watching, I'd still dance with you,_

_Drive highways and byways to be there with you._

_Over and over the only truth. Everything comes back to you._

_You still make me nervous when you walk in the room,_

_them butterflies they come alive when I'm next to you._

_Over and over the only truth._

_Everything comes back to you._

 

The music, the chatter of mechs and femmes, those talking to him and to each other, they all blended into the background. It was all just white noise and he couldn't really make out anything discernible. He sighed and sipped his cocktail. His colleagues were well-meaning and he was honestly grateful to be invited. As with most sociable things, however, he had realised too late that he wouldn't really enjoy himself. It wasn't the company or the noise per se that bothered him, although the noise certainly wasn't enjoyable. Nor was it the copious amounts of high grade being consumed, though it did help if you were consuming as much as those around you.

It was the _reminder_ that he didn't quite fit.

It wasn't deliberate, nor even malicious. His colleagues were perfectly pleasant and friendly with him. It was their in-jokes, their banter, the chatter of previous experiences, or plans together that cemented his outsider status. He hadn't been invited to be a part of any of the previous outings, nor was he privy to their future plans. He was sure if he were more outgoing and talkative they would invite him more, but he wasn't so they didn't. He lamented being awkward, quiet and having niche interests that made him appear boring sometimes. When he was alone in his apartment with only his interests to entertain him and the friends he had made through those interests available to talk to across the planet-wide external comm system, he didn't really mind it. In fact, he quite liked his space, his interests and didn't really care if his colleagues thought him boring. Most of the time. Sometimes, like tonight, for instance, it bothered him.

It was the eve of the Light Festival in Iacon, and Prowl's colleagues had invited him to join them and celebrate. It was a festival of sparks, of bondings and finding connections with others. Prowl had no doubt that his friends… His colleagues had felt sorry for him sitting at home on his own. He had only been in Iacon for a couple of vorns and still struggled to establish a social network of his own, so occasionally his thoughtful colleagues took pity on him. It was true he felt left out as a young Lieutenant new to the Iacon Security Force but he appreciated their efforts nonetheless and forced himself to remain and at least finish his cocktail. Which, it had to be said, was rather pleasant.

“This seat taken?”

Prowl looked up at the mech standing before him, his hand on the back of the free chair. “No, please, go ahead,” he replied, fully expecting the mech to take the chair to his own table.

“Thanks.” The mech pulled the chair out and sat down at the table opposite from Prowl. “It's nice to get off my feet.” The mech flashed him a grin.

Prowl stared at the visored mech for a klik in surprise before nodding. “Dancing can be strenuous exercise,” he commented with a friendly smile, having seen the mech in the crowds.

“Only if it's done right,” the mech laughed, his visor sparkling in the lights.

Prowl chuckled and nodded, while his doorwings shrugged ambivalently. “I wouldn't know,” he replied honestly. The mech turned his full attention on Prowl, which made him feel like he was under a spotlight.

“You're not a dancer,” he stated simply, rather than asking. “I bet you would enjoy it with the right partner though,” he added boldly with a smile, before taking a swig of his drink.

“Yes well, I have danced I just… don't have many opportunities at the moment.”

“Oh, what do you do?”

“I'm part of Iacon security,” Prowl responded, looking at his cocktail steadfastly. Admitting that generally made other mechs back off even if they had nothing against enforcers. Iacon security mechs, in particular, had a reputation. A few bad apples and they were all painted with the same tarnished brush. Most didn’t believe him when he admitted it either, Prowl just didn't seem the type of mech to be an enforcer to most. He was quiet, reserved and introverted, not a mech typically stereotyped to be an enforcer.

“No kidding! Me too!”

Prowl looked up and stared again. “Really?” he asked dubiously. He was getting the distinct impression the mech was trying to chat him up.

“Well not Iacon security…” the mech admitted. “I'm here on vacation, for the light festival.” He smiled. “Looks like I caught you at the start of the festivities. Looking for a spark connection, or just out to enjoy the music?”

Prowl gave him a small smile and sipped some of his cocktail, silently noting that Jazz had side-stepped telling him exactly where he was security of. That got him thinking, though he wasn’t about to let Jazz know that. “It wasn't my idea. I was invited by my frien—colleagues,” he corrected quickly, currently unable to see any of them in the crowds of mechs dancing and drinking.

“Ah, not your scene?” the mech asked, catching the last nanoklik correction.

Prowl sighed. “It's not that. I quite enjoy evenings out. It's just they're not…” he felt silly explaining it. “They're nice...I like them it's just—”

“—they're not your people,” the mech finished with understanding.

Prowl met his gaze and nodded. “You could say that,” he replied. “We're just different, I suppose. We have different interests. I moved away from home, which makes socializing difficult, but for the most part, we don't hang out socially.”

Jazz canted his helm with understanding and sipped his own drink, “I hear that. Living away from home is tough, especially during festivals like this one.”

“It's really alright. You get used to it and my home city actually has different festivals. Missing those can be harder.”

The mech nodded and leaned forward. “Tell you what, how about I show you what this festival is really all about and you can tell me what festivals your home city has. What do you say?”

Prowl was unconvinced and met the mech's eager visored gaze with an incredulous one. “Run off through Iacon with a stranger? I'm not an idiot. I don't even know your name. Next thing I know, I'll be waking up from a drugged stupor, in some hotel room, creditless. No offence.”

The mech laughed brightly. “None taken. You're right to be cautious and I don't know your name either. How about you find your friends, tell them you'll be going to the city for a joor and if you're not back by last orders to call the cops?”

Prowl raised an optic ridge. “My ‘friends’ are already drunk. How about I tell the night shift at my office if I don't check in by a certain time to come looking for me, with backup?”

“It's extreme, but I doubt I'm going to get you out of that seat with anything less, am I?”

“Not a chance.”

The mech's smile widened. “Do whatever makes you comfortable, mech and finish your drink while you're at it.”

Prowl pulled out his handheld communicator. It was old school but he enjoyed the feel of a physical communicator in his hand as opposed to one of the new processor implants that were all the rage. He glanced subtly at Jazz who was looking around the room and began typing; _**Ironhide. I'm at the festival party. There's a mech here who says he wants to show me what the festival is all about and is offering to take me into the city. Run a check on a mech in security called…**_

Prowl stopped typing and looked at the mech. “You still haven't told me your name…”

“Jazz,” the mech answered easily, with a flash of his visor. “Ready?” He held out his hand as he stood.

 ** _...Jazz… if that even is his real name... let me know what you find and if I should bolt for the nearest exit._** He finished typing.

Prowl stood and looked at the offered hand tentatively before accepting. “Oh wait my drink!” he turned and finished his cocktail while subtly checking his comm.

**_Prowl. You need to learn to relax, mech. I'll do your fraggin' check. Try to have fun. Seriously. You're killing me here._ **

If Prowl could have rolled his optics at Ironhide’s obvious resignation through the device, he would have. Instead, he simply subspaced it before turning back to Jazz. “Lead the way.”

“You got it mech… you know, I never did get your name either,” Jazz sing-songed.

“My apologies. It's Prowl,” he replied with a shy smile.

“I like it,” Jazz declared resolutely.

Prowl did _not_ feel his faceplates heat up at the compliment and was _not_ at all flustered by the squeeze of the mech's hand holding his. Not even a little bit.

Okay. _Maybe_ a little.

****

The city was a lively flurry of activity. There were street performers and food stalls, music, dancing and laughter. The city had come alive in a way Prowl hadn't experienced before. Gone were the early commuters grabbing their heated morning energon. Gone were the mechs rushing for the transport. The streets were crowded and filled with a multitude of lights and decorations.

Prowl was jostled in the crowds and he momentarily lost sight of Jazz as their hands parted. Prowl honestly wouldn't be surprised if the mech found him tedious and had made his escape. He stopped at a stall selling crystalline art sculptures. They were designed with internal illumination that was refracted into a spectrum of colour by the crystal shell. They were quite beautiful and Prowl was enamoured. They reminded him of the crystal gardens of Praxus and a pang of homesickness swept through him.

“There you are!” Jazz patted his shoulder, his visor reflecting the myriad lights around them. “Thought I'd lost you there for a klik.”

“Ah, sorry, we got separated,” _I thought you'd left_ , he didn't add, “and I got distracted by the crystals.”

Jazz peered around him and oooohh'd with delight at the crystal sculptures. “Nice. Are they anything like the gardens in Praxus?” he asked eagerly.

Prowl's optics brightened with surprise, he deliberately hadn’t told Jazz where he was from and his frame type wasn’t that uncommon in Iacon. Again he erred on the side of being polite and indulged the question. “They're quite different, especially with the light and colour, but there are some aesthetic similarities. They are quite beautiful,” he mused, gently touching a fragile crystal that seemed to hover in suspension.

“Reminds you of home, huh?” Jazz asked, after watching Prowl for a few kliks.

“Somewhat,” Prowl replied with a small smile of his own. “What did you find?” he asked, his gaze drawn to the star-shaped box in Jazz's hands.

Jazz grinned widely. “You're going to love these, come on, follow me.”

Jazz weaved easily through the crowds, causing Prowl to stumble and bump into mechs and femmes with mumbled apologies as he tried to keep up. “Where are we going?” He asked after getting caught up in a cheerful crowd of singers and dancers who had twirled him around before he could free himself, much to Jazz's delight.

“Nearly there,” he grinned. “Thought you said you couldn't dance?” He asked over his shoulder.

Prowl vented a soft sigh, quietly regretting his boldness in following this stranger through the exuberant Iacon streets. “I said I did not have the opportunity, not that I couldn't. I'm Praxian as you have already discerned, it's part of our culture to dance and perform.”

Jazz mouth parted slightly with quiet amazement. “Clearly I was sparked in the wrong city.” He chuckled, coming to a stop at a bench, on a bridge overlooking the Iacon river.

“Do you perform?” Prowl asked curiously, having seen Jazz dance at the club before he'd known who the mech was and had noticed a level of skill that had far surpassed that of the other dancers surrounding Jazz at the club.

“When the occasion calls for it,” Jazz answered cryptically. He patted the bench beside him, encouraging Prowl to sit. The box appeared in his hand once more and Prowl sat mostly out of curiosity. “Offline your optics.”

“What?”

Jazz threw him an amused smile, “Just do it, it's part of the experience. Trust me.”

Prowl hesitated, looking into the shining visor gazing at him expectantly. Venting another sigh, expecting the worst, he offlined his optics.

“Going to put something in your hand, keep your optics off and put it in your mouth,” Jazz explained.

Prowl onlined his optics and stared at the mech incredulously.

Jazz laughed softly. “Please? I promise it's nothing weird. Trust me?” he asked hopefully.

Pursing his mouth, Prowl acquiesced and waited with his hand out. He felt something small and square being placed in his hand and tried to determine what it was before Jazz gently raised his hand to his mouth.

“Try,” Jazz urged.

Relenting, Prowl popped whatever it was into his mouth and waited for something horrible to happen. Instead, the small squishy cube promptly melted and an explosion of sweetness spread over his glossa. “Oohmmm,” Prowl uttered, his mouth full. His optics onlined to meet Jazz's curious regard. “These are incredible!” He marvelled, covering his mouth with his hand as he spoke and swallowed the remainder of the goodie.

“Right?” Jazz beamed, very pleased by Prowl's reaction. “They're called Starbursts. They only make them for this festival and I honestly travel back here every vorn to get myself a box. Each one tastes different and you never know what it's going to be.”

“They're amazing. I had no idea goodies could be this good!” Prowl exclaimed. “Now you,” he encouraged. “Optics off.” He smiled, placing a goodie that looked like an exploding star into Jazz's palm.

Jazz ate it slowly and hummed with enjoyment. “That one tastes like burnt Sulphur with a hint of Manganese,” he grinned. “Bitter and sweet.”

“Mine was sweet and then warm with a heat that was unexpected, but not unpleasant,” Prowl explained excitedly. “Wow, I've never really indulged in such sweets before. Why did we have to come here to eat them?”

Jazz chuckled. “We didn't, but look.” He pointed to where the first lanterns were being sent out over the water, from boats of happy couples sending their message of love and connection into the sky.

Prowl stared at the sight. It was beautiful to see the twinkling lights, like stars. Music from street performers floated over the water. He started when Jazz suddenly got up and offered his hand. “Customary to dance for this song. Would you do me the honour?” he asked graciously.

Entranced by the lights and soft music, Prowl huffed a shy laugh and accepted Jazz's hand, despite himself. He gasped softly when Jazz tugged him up and twirled him, catching him before he lost his balance.

“Not bad,” Jazz complimented, before moving again, in time with the gently swaying melody.

Prowl smiled as they fell into a comfortable step. Lights from the lanterns sparkled around them, as they rose past the bridge. Musicians made their way across and saw them dancing. Without skipping a beat they pulled their instruments out and the melody changed to something more lively. Prowl found himself caught up in it as Jazz picked up their pace and kept hold of his hand, much to the delight of their impromptu band, who whooped and sang.

Prowl laughed at the exuberant music and lively dancing and singing taking over the bridge. He couldn't help but stare a little as Jazz let him go, took centre stage and started singing himself. He had quite the voice.

The musicians around them seemed to agree and they softened their music to match Jazz as he sang and danced, weaving around them, drawing a crowd.

Prowl allowed himself to be jostled out of the way by the crowd of attentive listeners. He was too polite to squeeze himself through the mingling mechs and femmes, especially not when his doorwings could get caught. Instead, he leant against the railing of the bridge and listened to Jazz as he gazed out across the water. He had seen so many things he hadn't before, learnt quite a lot about Iacon and about himself. Company wasn't always the energy drain he so often found it to be. At least not with the right person. He had actually enjoyed himself, even if he did feel somewhat guilty for having suspicions of Jazz who had done nothing untoward, in spite of the discrepancies Prowl had noticed through their conversations.

He pulled out his comm when it blipped and opened Ironhide's message.

 ** _Prowl you were right to be suspicious. Looks like Jazz is part of the Elite Guard to Prime. Most of his file is classified but you know they've been poking around the department recently fraggin' off the boss with_** rumours ** _of corruption. Don't be surprised if he's targeted you in order to get info on us. Trust you to pick up the one spy in the city._**

Prowl read the message again and put his comm away. He gazed out across the river. It was just his luck. Yet, Jazz hadn't once asked him about his work.

He turned and looked back at the mech, catching his gaze through the crowd. Prowl fought the rising heat in his faceplates when Jazz flashed him a bright happy smile. He sighed with the resignation of knowing too much about the mech yet returned Jazz's smile with a small one of his own and felt an unexpected flutter in his tank when the mech made his way over to him.

“Come on, let's escape.” Jazz grabbed his hand excitedly and ran from the bridge with a laugh.

Prowl had no choice but to follow him and even laughed with him when they stopped in the Iacon palace gardens. Metal trees wrapped with glowing vines sang and changed colour, drawing Prowl's optics once more. “Everything is so much more at night… What a stunning view,” he declared with awe. He looked down when he felt Jazz squeeze his hand then step into his personal space.

“I can't argue about the view,” Jazz replied softly, his visor glowing at intently at Prowl in a way that made Prowl's tank feel like it was doing somersaults inside his chassis. Jazz drew closer, “Do you mind… if I…?”

Prowl shook his helm mutely - it wasn’t that he hadn’t kissed a mech before, it just happened so rarely that he was always caught off guard and became a nervous, shy mute, a product of his naturally introverted nature, he had no doubt - and his intakes hitched when Jazz's mouth pressed gently against his own. It was sweet and soft and didn't last anywhere near as long as Prowl would have liked. He hoped Jazz hadn't heard the soft mewl that escaped his vocaliser as the kiss broke. He onlined his optics to find Jazz smiling warmly at him and Ironhide's message sat heavy in his subspace. “I had a lovely time…” he started hesitantly.

“But you have to go,” Jazz finished, his visor dimming slightly. “Yeah, I figured after your message from your office you would want to.”

Prowl's optics brightened at that and he didn't know how to respond, “You gave me your real name,” he stated helplessly. “What did you honestly expect?” he frowned slightly. “How did you know I had received a message?”

Jazz simply tapped his visor with resignation, “My job to notice things. I gave you my real name because I decided to take a chance and not lie to you, in the hope that you wouldn’t do a complete background check on me until tomorrow,” he shook his helm with vague amusement. “Seems I underestimated your caution, my mistake, but if I’d have told you where I was working straight away, would you have followed me?”

Prowl sighed but didn't answer. He didn't need to.

“Yeah, that's what I thought.” Jazz smiled sadly at him and took his hand. “For what it’s worth, this wasn't about the job.” He met Prowl's gaze and chuckled. “I swear! It wasn't _intentionally_ … forgive me for not telling you?”

Prowl offered him a knowing smirk. “I'm thinking about it.”

“I had a nice time and you're good company. Would you at least let me walk you home?” Jazz asked hopefully.

Mulling it over, Prowl decided, surrounded by all the lights reflecting off and dancing in Jazz's visor, that there would be no harm in ending the evening on a pleasant note. Jazz, to his credit, had avoided asking him about work and he had enjoyed the mech's company. “Alright, at least I don't have to worry about you stealing all my credits and leaving me drugged in a poorly maintained hotel with a bad reputation.”

Jazz laughed at Prowl's dry humour and started to walk through the gardens, passing other couples along the path. “That's the spirit!” He grinned at Prowl. “Though that could be arranged if you'd like a more authentic experience?” he quipped teasingly.

“I'll pass, thank you,” Prowl responded dryly. “And I would say that the evening has been quite authentic on its own merit.”

“I'm glad you think so. It's not every cycle I pick up some random, handsome security mech from a bar and show him the sights.”

“Hm, just every other cycle right?” Prowl teased.

Jazz laughed. “You got me!”

“Why me?” Prowl asked suddenly, his thoughts drifting back to his message. “I mean how did you know who I was?”

Jazz didn't answer straight away. He looked down thoughtfully and gave Prowl's hand a subtle squeeze. “You seemed like my kind of people.”

The walk was slow and ambling back to Prowl's apartment. He shared what he knew about Praxian festivals and Jazz asked to be shown the sights one cycle, to which Prowl agreed knowing it was unlikely he would ever see the mech again.

He stopped outside his building and looked up. “This is me,” he stated simply.

Jazz nodded and pulled out another small box that had a pearlescent shimmer on its surface and was smaller than the Starburst box had been, from subspace. “For you, to remember me by.”

Prowl hadn't expected a gift. “You didn't have to…”

“It's customary on the Light Festival.” Jazz shrugged and placed the box in Prowl's hand. “Think nothing of it.” He gazed at Prowl's face and leant in to kiss his cheek sweetly. “I'd ask for your comm, but I think you would only politely refuse, knowing who I am.”

Prowl dimmed his optics and ducked his gaze, the truth hitting closer to home than he had anticipated. There was nothing really stopping him from giving Jazz his comm. Except for his own personal principles, principles which Jazz seemed to read on him as though he were an open book. He couldn’t in good conscience, however, date a mech investigating his department and surely that would create a conflict of interests for Jazz too? - he opted not to ask about this right at that moment, it did not seem appropriate - It was hard enough being the new mech in the department if he started seeing Jazz, especially as Ironhide would know, it would make his life in the office virtually unbearable. Nobody would trust him, especially not his Captain and Prowl was not yet prepared for that level of hostility in his new job. He didn’t honestly think Jazz would find any evidence of corruption anyway, so maybe one cycle when his investigation was closed they would run into each other again. Prowl could hope. “Read me so well already,” he murmured.

“Don't worry about it.” Jazz grinned and stepped back. “Be seeing you, Prowl. Thank you for a wonderful night and a Light Festival to remember.” He gave Prowl a little wave, then turned and headed back into the lights of the city.

Prowl gazed after him with longing, cradling the box in his hands, for longer than he should. With a heavy sigh, he turned and headed into his building. Reaching his apartment, he sat on his sofa and opened the box. Inside was one of the light crystals he'd been admiring from the stalls. He smiled and placed it on the table in front of him where he could admire the lights shimmering inside.

****

Far down in the street below, Jazz meandered slowly back to the city. He hadn't expected to have such a good time. He hadn't been joking when he had said Prowl was his kind of mech, contrary to popular opinion and his reputation, which was wholly unfounded in Jazz's opinion. He sighed and found himself back at the bridge where they'd danced and looked out over the river. He remembered Prowl smiling and actually dancing and the way he'd looked at him when he sang, it made Jazz's tank flutter.

His comm pinged insistently and his smile vanished.

”Yeah, yeah, it's planted. I wouldn't expect much though. Yeah, this one is as clean as a whistle. Nah, it was a good night, I had fun. Don't be like that, Raj, he was nice. I like him. He's not going to like me when he finds out… yeah yeah, I know.” Jazz sighed again with heavy resignation. “It's just the job, did you get lucky with yours? Heh, he sounds eager. Yeah… I'll see you in the morning. Alright, mech, have fun. Be safe.”

Ending the comm call, Jazz's gaze landed on a happy couple, dancing on the bridge not too far from him. He watched them for a long few kliks with a soft smile on his face, remembering how Prowl had almost glided when he'd finally relaxed.

 _When_ Prowl found out about the bug, he would likely never trust him again, never mind dance with him. It was just the job, but Prowl had felt like more than an assignment, like more than the job.

At least they'd had this night. Jazz hummed the tune they'd danced to as he made his way home. The Festival of Light, a night filled with music and dancing and the connections between sparks, with one spark in particular that Jazz would not be forgetting in a hurry. 

****

 

_It's funny how things never change in this old town,_

_so far from the stars..._

_And I know it's wrong, that I can't move on_

_But there's something about you... - Niall Horan_


End file.
